It's the Fear
by JennaSeraph
Summary: France likes Canada. Canada likes France. They finally get together, but then the unthinkable happens-Canada goes missing. What will France do? Will he ever get Canada back? And if he does, will Canada ever be the same?
1. Chapter One

**Author's Note: Okay, so this is my first Franada story~ Hopefully it turns out okay. Rated Mature for a reason, just so you know. Currently the only warnings are of male-male relationships, cross-dressing, and mild fetishes (only mentioned).  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, but I /do/ own the plot. Please give me credit for that much. I make no money from this at all, trust me.**

* * *

"What the hell, Jack?" Matt blushed, beginning to look like a tomato.

"What do you mean what the hell?" Jack (Australia) smirked slightly.

"Why the hell would I wear a miniskirt?"

"Because you'd look hot," his smirk grew and Matt's blush grew even more prominent as he slowly shook his head. "And more people will notice you."

"N-non (No)! I would not!" He stammered, crossing his arms and pouting. "I'm a guy, guys don't wear skirts, dang it!"

"I wear skirts," Feliks walked up, hearing Matt's comment, causing him to falter slightly.

"A-and you look very good in them," he said quickly. "But wearing skirts just isn't for me…"

"You never know if you don't try it!"

"How do you know I haven't?" he countered stubbornly.

"Have you?" Feliks said, poking him.

"It's none of your business!"

"That's a no!" Jack snickered.

"Well then!" Feliks clapped his hands with delight. "You are, like, definitely coming with me!" Ignoring Matthew's protests, he grabbed the other's wrist and began pulling him from the conference room. He looked back at Jack with pleading eyes, only to be confronted with the mischievous glint in his eye, making him worry even more.

* * *

Francis noticed Matt trying to speak throughout the meetings, only to be spoken over every time. Eventually, he had given up and settled for taking notes, making Francis feel sympathetic. He had wanted to invite the Canadian to dinner that evening, but was intercepted by Gilbert and Antonio. He tried to excuse himself politely, but saw Matthieu speaking with Australia and Poland. He was looking rather embarrassed, blushing and shaking his head, arguing profusely. Francis couldn't help but be curious about what they were talking about that could fluster him so. He watched as Feliks clapped, looking delighted, and grabbed a red and spluttering Matthieu, pulling her out of the room with Jack following.

Francis finally separated himself from his friends, stating he was tired, and slipped from the meeting room, catching a glimpse of the trio turning a corner. He stayed far enough back so it didn't seem like he was following them (which he was). They soon entered a room, and when he peeked in it was obviously Feliks's. Staying outside, Francis listened carefully to the commotion going on inside.

* * *

When the three made it into Feliks's room, Matthew had given up fighting and was refusing to cooperate in the slightest. The Pole had pulled out a multitude of miniskirts, going through them one by one. Trying to find "just the right one" he said. Jack was standing in front of the door, to keep him from running. Matthew just stood by the window, glaring at his two allies.

"This one is perfect!" Feliks exclaimed, holding out a red miniskirt to the Canadian expectantly.

"We may be working on improving relations," he said bluntly. "But no way in hell am I putting that on."

"Come on!" Feliks pouted. "You would, like, totally look awesome!"

"Nope," he shook his head roughly. "Not happening." Jack and Feliks exchanged glances, then together they grabbed him, Jack sitting on the larger nation to hold him down, while Feliks began stripping his pants off. Matthew thrashed around angrily, shouting a string of curses in French. Feliks laughed suddenly.

"You have maple leaf boxers?" Jack asked with a snicker.

"Nobody was supposed to see them!" he growled.

"You should always dress as if your lover will see you," Jack said, pinching the Canadian's behind, earning a startled yelp.

_I don't have a lover_, Matt thought with a grimace, but didn't voice it aloud. Feliks soon had the skirt in place, and they let him up, but Jack quickly restrained his arms behind his back.

"In my jacket is a camera," he said, completely ignoring the squirming male. "Get a few pictures for me~."

"What? Non (no)! No, please don't take pictures!" He continued his struggles as Feliks snapped a few photos, quickly putting the camera away. Jack released Matthew, claiming his jacket and camera. "Delete them!"

"Say please~," Jack smirked—the pictures implied quite a bit more than what was going on in reality.

"S'il vous plait! (Please)" he begged. "Please!"

"Oh, alright," Jack, with a bit of dexterity, slipped the memory card from the device, pretending to delete the photographs. "All gone!" he handed to device to the Canadian, who began inspecting it for incriminating photos, and found none. He hesitantly handed the camera back, relieved, but suspicious.

"Merci beaucoup…(thanks a lot)" he whispered.

"You know, Mattie," Jack leered. "You really do look awful sexy like that~ Maybe you should wear it for Francis sometime~." He promptly got smacked upside the head by a blushing blonde.

"N-non (no)!" he changed rapidly into his pants, much to the other countries' disappointment. "He…he thinks of me like a son, nothing more…" he said sadly.

"Nope."

"What do you mean, 'nope'?"

"I mean," he pulled a sucker out of nowhere, popping it in his mouth. "That he doesn't think of you as a son~."

"So, I'm not even that much to hi—"

"Are you kidding me?" Feliks chuckled. "You mean to like, tell me, that you haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?"

"That the Frenchie totally digs you!" they said in unison.

"Wha—?" Matthew blushed again, feeling his jaw go slack. "N-no….t-that couldn't be… Are you… Are you sure?"

"Definitely!" The Pole grinned. "Have you, like, not seen how he looks at you?" Matthew slowly shook his head.

"No…I thought I was always the one looking…" he turned his back to them, going to look out the window. "Every time we did make eye contact though, there was always this look in his eyes…but I thought it was just my imagination. He's always kind to me, but I never thought he might…you know…" Matt blushed again, realizing he sounded like a lovesick teenage girl, and laughed nervously. "I'm going to get packed. My flight leaves soon." While not being a total lie, he didn't need to pack, but his plane would be leaving soon, whether he was on it or not.

* * *

Francis's eyes lit up when he heard Matthew's confession, but quickly moved to the other end of the hall, and began walking towards the now opening door.

* * *

Matthew emerged from the room and began making his way to his room quickly, keeping his eyes on the ground and consequently, walking right into somebody.

"I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking…" he blushed when he realized who he had run into. "B-bonjour, m-monsieur Bonnefoy…(hello, Mr.)" he stammered quietly.

"Bonjour, mon cher, (Hello, my dear)" Francis kissed the other's cheeks. "How many times must I tell you to call me Francis?"

"Désolé, (Sorry)" Matt mumbled, looking at his feet.

"Why are you apologizing?" he chuckled slightly. "Just remember next time."

"O-oui mons—Francis, (Yes, mist—)" he corrected himself quickly, making the Frenchman beam. "I'm sorry to say this," he mumbled, and he truly was sorry. "But, my flight home will be leaving soon, so I must gather my things and be off."

"Oh," Francis's face fell. He hadn't even gotten to invite him for dinner. "If that is the case, perhaps you would allow me to escort you to the airport…?" He wanted to as much time with the blonde as much as possible.

"I-if you want to…" Matthew flushed, but smiled nonetheless. "Are you sure you want to? I don't mind if you're just saying that…"

"Oui, mon petit Matthieu~ (Yes, my little Matthew)," Francis took the younger male's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Nothing would make me happier than to spend time with you."

"Well, then, um…" Matthew blushed, not expecting the show of affection from the man, but smiled, truly happy for the first time in a long time. "I-I just need to run by my room and grab my things…"

"Of course!" Francis allowed the other to take the lead, but did not release his hand. When they reached the room, Francis held open the door for him, making the Canadian blush and smile. He loved making him blush, he just looked so adorable when flustered. How was it that nobody noticed this beautiful boy? He was the epitome of perfection: flawless skin, soft as velvet; silky golden locks that framed large, violet eyes; and a small plump mouth, curved always into a smile—a smile, Francis knew, that hid many things—pain, sadness, fear, hate, love. There was nothing dissatisfying about this perfect angel.

"Kuma!" Matthew frowned, and Francis wanted nothing more than to smooth the lines marring his beauty. "What are you doing?" There was no anger in his voice, just amusement. The polar bear had opened one of the suitcases, turning the once neatly folded and organized clothing into a nest for the bear.

"Looks like he was sleepy~" Francis chortled as the Canadian scooped the bear up and laid him on the bed where it immediately went back to sleep. Francis knelt down, beginning to refold the clothing and placing it neatly into the suitcase.

"Francis!" The Canadian quickly tried to stop him, blushing as he picked up his boxers. "Stop!"

"Non (no)," Francis laughed. "These are adorable~" he held out a pair of boxers that were covered in frogs, which Matthew promptly snatched away blushing.

"Stop that!"

"Non~"

"Why?" he said, exasperated.

"Because you need help, oui (yes)? I thought your plane left soon."

"It does, but—"

"But nothing," Francis said firmly. "I don't want you to miss your flight." Actually, he wouldn't mind it, because then he could spend more time with the young Canadian.

Matthew remained silent, pouting, but did not protest anymore, and they finished repacking his things quickly.

* * *

**Author's Note: I just wished to inform you that I did not pull these three into a friendship because I could. All three of these countries have very good relations with each other, which is why they are all friends.**


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Note: Okay, there is GRAPHIC sex in this chapter, capish? That's pretty much my only warning, other than….well….a slightly creepy scene. Not between Matt and Francis, but it's still creepy O_o**

**Once again, I do not own the characters~ Only the plot.**

* * *

"What do you mean I'm not registered for this flight?" Matthew glared. "My ticket is right here, this is my passport, here's my government ID, what more do you want?"

"I'm sorry sir," the woman said. "But there is no Matthew Williams on this list."

"Let me call Harper and see what he thinks about this." The woman merely rolled her eyes and called the next person in line over.

"Does this happen often?" Francis wondered aloud.

"Every single time I travel," he muttered as he dialed Harper. He walked off, arguing it appeared. When he returned, he looked rather ticked off.

"He forgot to mention that he scheduled a different flight for me, and I've missed it." He groaned, sitting down dejectedly, holding his head in his hands. Francis sat next to him.

"When was the last time you had a vacation?" he asked softly, gently brushing a lock of hair from his face.

"I….I don't remember…." He mumbled, frowning slightly. "It was before Harper, that much I'm certain of…" Francis's eyes widened slightly—that had been a very long time indeed.

"Matthieu," he murmured. "Perhaps it is time for you to take some time off? It would make you feel better."

"I have meetings, and paperwork, and…" he trailed off, knowing his excuses were weak.

"Take a week off, mon cher (my dear)," Francis slid an arm around the Canadian's shoulder. "Come stay with me, I'll help you relax." Matthew smiled, giving a small nod. "Is your number still the same? I could call you this evening, if you wish."

"I-I'd like that," the boy smiled.

"Perhaps…" Francis murmured. "You could call Harper, and take off for the next week or two," he took the other's hand with a smile, squeezing it gently.

"I couldn't…" he blushed furiously. "I wouldn't want to impose…"

"You wouldn't be imposing," he grinned. "I invited you, and if you were a bother, I would not have. I want nothing more than to spend time with you." Matthew's eyes widened slightly, and he gave an embarrassed giggle, lowering his gaze.

"O-okay, if-if you're certain," he mumbled.

"I'm hungry!" They looked down at the polar bear, and Matthew chuckled.

"You're always hungry."

"So?" Matt rolled his eyes and reached into his bag, pulling out a package of dried fish and tossed it to the bear who wolfed it down immediately.

"Don't ask for more until it's dinner time." He said.

"Does he always do that?" Francis chuckled.

"Yeah," Matt shrugged, pulling out his phone and texting Harper about taking off. Almost instantly his phone went off, and the vacation was approved. Harper would arrange for Matthew to fly with Francis, and stay with him the next few weeks. "Alrighty then, it looks like I'll be going home with you."

"Splendid!" Francis stood. "My flight won't be leaving for a while, so we can turn in your luggage and go see the town, oui?

"Oui."

* * *

Jack copied the photos of Matt onto his computer as soon as he got home, printing one out. In the photo, Jack was leering down at Matt, holding the blushing blonde against him with ease. Matthew was flushed, panting, and looking at Jack with defiance in his eye. The already short skirt had ridden up, revealing the pale, creamy skin beneath. The picture implied that the Australian had a much more intimate relationship with his brother than was true—scandalous, that was the word for it.

Jack remembered something…something that had happened long ago, that Matt had more than likely forgotten about. He and the northern nation had been much younger, still under England's control…

"_I promise, Matt!" the Australian child said. "I'll find a way to make everybody notice you!"_

He looked back at the photo, a grin spreading across his face as an idea occurred to him. This picture of Matthew was the key to everything.

"I won't let you down, Mattie," he whispered softly.

* * *

Matthew was perched on the edge of his seat, staring out the window of the plane.

"Mon cher," Francis chuckled. "The engine isn't even running yet," he laughed softly. Matthew blushed, leaning back and holding Kumajirou closer.

"I-I know," he mumbled.

"Just relax, mon petit Matthieu (my little Matthew)," Francis reached over, taking his hand gently. "You won't miss a thing, I promise." Matthew smiled slightly and nodded, laying his head on the Frenchman's shoulder. Francis smiled, kissing the top of Matthieu's head.

"Francis?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything," Matthew blushed, looking out the window. "You've just always been here when I needed you, even when I didn't know I did. You've never let me down, and…" he blushed, taking a deep breath. "I just…I wanted you to know how grateful I am…and-and that…that if for some reason—any reason—you need me, just say the word, and I'll be there." He stared out the window, certain his face was cherry red at this point, and terrified that Francis was laughing at him.

"Mon cher (my dear)," Francis murmured. "Look at me, s'il vous plait (please)?" Matthew shook his head, his blush growing. "Matthieu," Francis gently took the boy's chin, turning him to look him in the eyes. "What brought this on all of a sudden?"

"N-nothing!" Matthew tried to turn away, but those blue eyes, as blue as the sea, held him captivated. He couldn't lie, never had been able too, but when it came to Francis, he couldn't even twist his words to hide his true meaning. "Why would—"

"Please don't hide from me," the Frenchman murmured, brushing a lock of hair from the startled Canadian's eyes.

"It wasn't really…What I mean is…" _I love you_, Matt thought. _But I'm too much of a coward to tell you_.

"You can tell me anything Matthieu."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and with only a small spurt of courage, leaned forward and pressed his lips against the other's briefly before pulling back and whispering "I love you," so softly that it almost went unheard. The Frenchman smiled, leaning forward and kissing the blushing boy gently.

"Je t'aime aussi~ (I love you too)" he murmured as he pulled back to look at his Matthieu. The boy's eyes widened, and a smile slowly spread across his lips.

"R-really?" he whispered, biting his lip. "You…you aren't just saying that?"

"Non," he rested his forehead against the boy's with a smile. "Why would I do that to you?" He, again, kissed the Canadian, but lingered this time, caressing his lips gently. Matthew blushed, trying weakly to imitate the older blonde's movements, failing miserably. When something warm and slick swept across his lower lip, he squeaked with surprise, involuntarily opening his mouth and granting the muscle entry. He moaned as the other explored the moist cavern, probing, caressing, teasing. When Francis pulled back due to the need for air, he smirked down at the flustered male, who was avoiding his gaze and mumbled something.

"What was that, love" he prodded. "I couldn't hear you."

"I-I just said th-that," he blushed again, averting his gaze. "T-that was one h-heck of a-a first k-kiss…"

"Your first?" Francis was rather surprised. "I thought that you and Gilbert…?"

"Nope," Matthew laughed. "He and I were never a thing. He was drunk, I was his designated driver, he wanted to 'have some fun' with me, and I said no. He then proceeded to pass out, and I carried him to the car, and took him home."

"That does sound like him," he chuckled. "And you let him think otherwise?"

"It'll only hurt his ego if I told him, not protect my reputation or anything."

"What do you mean?" Francis frowned. "Most people wouldn't…"

"I guarantee that you are the only person he told that remembers."

"Why do you say that?"

"Surely you've noticed how I'm treated?"

He shook his head slowly.

"Nobody notices me," he said softly, voicing it more difficult than he thought. "The reason I don't get to talk is because they can't see me or hear me. To them, I am less than a ghost." He laughed bitterly. "Even Russia doesn't realize I'm there, I would even venture to guess that I'm more invisible to him than the other countries. He sits on me at nearly every meeting, and never realizes that I sit in the same place every time…" he trailed off, glaring out the window.

"Matthieu," Francis slid his arms around the Canadian. "Do not let that bother you. You are beautiful in every way, shape, and form—do not let anybody make you believe otherwise." The boy blushed, but remained silent. "Matthieu, did you hear me?"

"Oui," he sighed, slumping into the older male's chest weakly. "It's hard sometimes. Yeah, it's annoying, but I'm used to it. What makes it hard is that even my family forgets. Aren't they the ones I should be able to depend on?"

"Would you like me to speak to Angelettere (England)—?"

"Non," Matthew said quickly. "It doesn't bother me much anymore, I mean, why should it?"

"Mon cher," Francis kissed the other's forehead gently. "It's perfectly logical to be hurt, and perhaps you should speak to him."

"I'll think about it…"

"That is all I ask."

* * *

Paris. He hadn't been here in years. It was beautiful, and when the two finally made it to Francis's house, Matthew, despite his exhaustion, ran around the building like a child in a toy store at Christmas—going to every room, asking questions, commenting on decorations, and when he found the music room, he hid beneath the grand piano, stifling his giggles.

"Matthieu," Francis called with a laugh. "Where are you hiding?" He heard giggling from the music room and poked his head in. "Mon cher, I know you're in here." There was movement near the piano, and he peeked underneath to see the boy curled in a ball, trying not to laugh. "Are you having fun under there?"

"Maybe~" the Canadian giggled. "Why don't you come and see for yourself?" Francis chuckled, crawling under and cradling the other against his chest. Matthew squeaked, squirming until he was able to sit comfortably in the Frenchman's lap.

"You are too cute~" Francis nuzzled the boys neck, earning a giggle.

"That tickles~!" he squirmed, hitting his head. "Owwww!" he pouted rubbing his head.

"Perhaps," Francis chuckled. "We should continue this elsewhere."

"You'll," Matthew grinned mischievously. "You'll have to catch me first!" The Canadian laughed, darting out of the room. Francis growled playfully, running after the boy—staying far enough away to amuse him, but close enough to catch him. Matthew sped up drastically, losing Francis long enough to slip into a bedroom and hide beneath the blankets.

Francis smirked as Matthew slipped into the master bedroom—of course, the blonde didn't know it was his room, but the implications still amused the elder of the two. He slipped in silently, immediately spying a large lump in the covers. He crept over to the bed slowly, drawing back the blankets quickly. "Caught you~" he murmured, crawling in and kissing the boy gently. Matthew mewled softly, attempting to imitate the Frenchman's actions, allowing his hands to tangle in the older blonde's hair. Francis smirked, slipping his tongue across his lower lip. Matthew gasped lightly, granting access to the male, moaning softly as their tongues entwined together. Allowing them to breathe, Francis moved from his mouth along his jaw and began to suck gently on his earlobe. Matt groaned weakly as Francis nipped at his neck, wriggling underneath the attention. "Est-ce que se sentir bien? (Does that feel good)" Francis murmured, absently sliding his knee in between the other's legs, feeling the bulge in his pants.

"O-oui," Matthew gasped as the male began to grind against him. He bit his lip, muffling a moan.

"Ne pas, (Don't)," Francis said, sliding a hand beneath his shirt. "Je veux entendre ta voix magnifique (I want to hear your beautiful voice.)." Matthew blushed, but gave another soft mewl as he arched his back.

He smirked, quickly withdrawing his hands, much to Matthew's dismay, and began to unbutton his shirt. Matthew blushed, trying to cover himself. Francis kissed him gently, pulling the garment away. "Je veux vous voir (I want to see you)," he murmured, and the blushing boy gave in reluctantly. He was more beautiful than Francis had imagined—soft cream white skin, taut pink nipples, thin blonde curls that began at his belly button and led south. He was perfect.

"Don't look at me like that…" Matthew squirmed uncomfortably.

"Like what?" Francis murmured, caressing his cheek gently.

"Like…like you…" Matthew blushed. "Like you want to eat me!"

"Oh, but mon cher," he leaned down, brushing his lips against his ear. "Je ne veux pas vous manger (I do want to eat you)~" he said seductively, causing Matthew to blush furiously. He opened his mouth to retort, only to be cut off with a kiss. Once again, he was reduced to a mass of writhing limbs, whimpering and moaning with pleasure. Francis went back to torturing his neck, loving how sensitive the boy was. He ran his hands up and down his sides, earning another moan. "Vous êtes si sensible (You are so sensitive)~" he purred, moving down to suckle a pert nipple. "Serait-ce vous êtes toujours inacte (Could it be, you are still untouched [a virgin])?"

Matthew gasped, arching and tangling his fingers in the Frenchman's hair, moaning loudly. "O-oui," he finally managed to gasp out, wriggling feverishly. Francis groaned, switching to the neglected nub, using his fingers to gently pinch and twist the abandoned one. Matthieu was his, and could finally claim him completely and utterly as his own. "Le mien (Mine)," he growled.

"Bien à vous (Yours)," he whimpered. "Tous les vôtres (All yours)." Francis growled, moving downwards and tugging at the waistband of his pants, looking up at him questioningly. Matthew, flushed and panting, nodded, and Francis purred, quickly removing the offending garment.

"Maple leaves?" he chuckled.

"I w-wasn't expecting a-anybody t-to s-see them!" He blushed, hiding his face in his hands.

"Matthieu~" Francis pulled his hands away, kissing his lips gently and rubbing the obvious tent in the Canadian's boxers. "Please don't hide from me…" Once he was sure the other wouldn't hide again, he made his way back down to his waistband. "Je t'aime, mon cher (I love you, my darling)," he murmured, slipping his hands into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly to reveal the Canadian's aching length. He dipped his head, kissing the tip gently before taking it in his mouth.

"O-oh, mon dieu (my god)!" Matthew gasped, jerking his hips up and moaning loudly. "Fr-Francis!" The Frenchman smirked, taking him deeper into his mouth, a slight growl escaping his throat as he tasted the boy's essence. Matthew squeezed his eyes shut as another moan escaped his lips, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him roughly. "Fra-Francis! Ah—I…dieu—I don't….I don't think….I can ta-take much m-more!" He barely managed to gasp out, struggling to keep his thoughts in order. Francis quickened his pace, lavishing the member with his tongue. "O-oh dieu," he gasped, arching his back roughly. "Fra-Francis!" he cried out the other's name as he peaked, spiraling down from his climax rapidly, whimpering softly. Francis swallowed every last ounce, continuing to bob his head, making sure he didn't miss anything, marveling at the sweet and salty taste.

"You taste delicious~," he murmured, dragging himself back up the Canadian's body to kiss him gently. Matthew blushed slightly, tasting himself on the other's lips, but leaned into the kiss eagerly. He tugged on the hem of the Frenchman's shirt with a mewl, causing Francis to chuckle and break the kiss, pulling the shirt over his head quickly. Matthew purred softly, brushing his lips against his and running his hands up the other's sides and around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. Francis growled, pushing him down and rubbing his clothed erection against the Canadian's growing naked one. Matthew groaned softly, moving his hands to the waistband of his pants, undoing them quickly and pushing them down as far as he could reach, using his feet to push them the rest of the way. Francis chuckled, pulling away to remove his boxers, revealing himself. Matthew's eyes widened when he saw the elder male's impressive length, blushing furiously as he quickly averted his gaze, finally beginning to feel nervous. Francis grinned slightly at his reaction, and leaned down to kiss him passionately, his tongue darting out and quickly gaining dominance over the Canadian. Despite his nervousness, Matthew moaned weakly, tangling his hands into the Frenchman's silken locks and deepening the kiss. Francis purred softly, trailing kisses across his jaw and to his neck, biting and sucking the tender flesh as he slid a single digit into the Canadian, earning a gasp of surprise. Matthew stiffened at the intrusion, biting his lip anxiously—it didn't necessarily hurt, it just felt….weird.

"Relax, mon ange~ (my angel)," Francis murmured softly, gently nibbling on his earlobe. Matthew mewled, shifting uncomfortably and trying to relax. Once the Frenchman was sure he had relaxed, he began to move the digit, pumping it slowly. Matthew moaned, rolling his hips to meet the gentle thrusts, making the Frenchman smirk. "Does that feel good?" he purred softly. Matthew moaned in response, his eyes closed as he wriggled. Francis chuckled, slipping a second finger in, earning a gasp from the angel beneath him. Matthew didn't look like it hurt, just uncomfortable, and Francis resumed his attentions on his neck, hearing a mewl in response. He scissored his fingers gently, pumping them in and out, and soon slid in a third finger. Matthew gasped, his hips jerking with surprise. He whimpered, wiggling beneath him frantically. Francis kissed him gently, continuing to stretch him gently, preparing him for something much larger. Once he was sure he was prepared well enough, Francis lubed himself up, positioning himself and looking into Matthew's eyes, silently asking if he wanted to continue. Matthew slowly nodded, and the Frenchman kissed him passionately, hoping to distract him from any pain he might feel as he entered him slowly. Matthew gasped, feeling himself being filled, the pain wasn't terrible, but it still hurt. He whimpered softly, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing heavily. Francis held still, waiting for his angel to relax, knowing this was hurting him. Matthew gave a small nod.

"I-I'm okay, now," he mumbled, nuzzling Francis's neck. The Frenchman began to move slowly and Matthew was soon writhing beneath him, whimpering and mewling like a kitten. Steadily he increased his speed, shifting his angle, searching for that bundle of nerves that would make him see stars. "A-ah! Fr-Francis!" Matthew gasped, arching his back, moaning loudly. Francis smirked, aiming for that spot over and over again. He gripped the Canadian's arousal, stroking it in time with his thrusts. Matthew cried out one final time, his back arching, his seed spilling out of him. Francis thrust a few more times, groaning as he finished, filling the Canadian with his essence, claiming his territory. He rolled over, holding him against his chest.

"Je t'aime, mon petit ange~ (I love you, my little angel)," he murmured, kissing the top of the Canadian's head.

"Je t'aime aussi, Francis, (I love you too)" Matthew whispered, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Sleep, mon cher," Francis smiled, and Matthew smiled gratefully, snuggling into the older man with a yawn, drifting off to sleep.

He sat at his desk, doing paperwork that should have been completed days ago, but alas—he was rather lazy. Hearing an engine, he glanced out the window to see the mailman. Using this as an opportunity to stop working, he slipped out of his home and retrieved the mail. As he flipped through it, he was disappointed to find it all junk. Just as he was about to trash it, one envelope caught his attention. It was the only one filled out by hand, which made him curious. Opening it, he pulled out a photograph of a rather beautiful girl—no…that was a man in a skirt~ Along with the picture, there was a short note. A glance at the note told him that this was a fellow nation, Canada, it said. He tossed the note onto his desk and pushed aside his paperwork, reclining in his seat and examining the picture. In all his years, he had never seen such a beautiful creature. Golden hair, violet eyes, snow white skin, long thick eyelashes—absolutely stunning.

"Mew~" a soft, high pitched mewling brought his gaze to the ground, and an idea occurred to him. He smiled, leaning down and lifting the kitten into his lap, stroking its soft fur. Canada, that was the angel's name. He would create the perfect being, and it would all start with Canada.

* * *

**Author's Note: O_O I cannot believe I wrote that. I feel so wrong right now / That took me over a week to write. Not because of writer's block, but because I have this horrible issue with nosebleeds. The lining in my nose is like, uber thin, and almost every time I blush, I get a nosebleed. It's horrible.**

**Anyways~ Hope you enjoyed~ And even if you didn't, let me know what you didn't like, or what needs to be improved. (In other words, review or message me, I'm no mind reader).**


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews! ^/^ I didn't expect to get any at all, especially not on the first day! You guys are amazing.**

**Steve The Star, if I could tell you who the "creepy dude" was, I would. But I already heavily hinted at his identity, and to tell you would give away most of the plot.**

**AllyHWarner, thank you for the review girly~ *knows her from different site* Don't worry, I don't plan on dropping this. It's probably going to be one of the /only/ stories I don't end up dropping a few pages into.**

**Warnings for this chapter are basically the same as before, but no crossdressing this time :P**

* * *

Matthew stirred from his sleep, frowning when he realized he was alone. He climbed out of the oversized bed, looking for his clothes and finding the room devoid of any of his things. He hesitated slightly, not wanting to snoop, but decided it was better than strutting around naked. Making his way to the dresser, he froze, catching sight of himself in the floor length mirror. Dark splotches were scattered across his body, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. The worst of them, he noticed, were on his hips…shaped like…hands. He blushed, realizing what they were from.

Being so absorbed in his thoughts, he hadn't heard the door open and close, and jumped when a set of arms slid around his waist.

"Bonjour, mon petit ange~" Francis purred, nuzzling his cheek gently.

"B-bonjour, Fr-Francis," Matthew blushed darkly, biting his lip as the Frenchman's hands began to roam, gently caressing his bruises.

"Does it hurt much?"

"N-not really," Matthew winced slightly as a slight pressure was placed on his hips. "O-okay… Maybe a little…." With that, Francis lifted him up bridal style and carried him back to the bed, laying him down gently. "W-what are you—"

Francis silenced him with a kiss. "Let me take care of you~" he said softly, carefully moving down his body, kissing every bruise delicately, earning soft mewls of pleasure.

* * *

Matthew sighed, looking up from his book at Francis, who was at his desk, busy with work. His hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck in a pony tail, and a pair of reading glasses were perched on his nose—Matt couldn't help but think he looked rather attractive. _No! Bad thoughts!_ he scolded himself. He had known the other would have work to do, and yet he still let himself get talked into visiting. He bit his lip, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, and stood, silently walking to the study door.

"Matthieu?" Francis looked up from his work, a small frown on his features. "Where are you going?"

"I, ah…" Matthew blushed slightly. "I was going to another room…so I wouldn't bother you…."

"Bother me? Nonsense~" Francis chuckled and held out his arms. "Come over here, love~" Matthew flushed slightly, but did as he was told. Francis wrapped pulled Matt into his lap and nuzzled his cheek gently. "Stay with me? Please?"

"…only because you said please…" Matthew sighed, standing to go back to his previous spot, but Francis tightened his arms around him, forcing him to remain in his lap. "Francis….?"

"Yes, mon petit ange~?" Francis was still nuzzling him gently.

"Are you going to let me up?"

"Non~" he chuckled, pulling the Canadian closer. "I am not letting go of you~"

"Francis!" Matt whined, beginning to squirm. "Please?"

"Non."

"Why?"

"Because you are mine~"

Matthew flushed slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yours~" he purred, turning to brush a tender kiss against Francis's lips.

* * *

The man stood outside the window, glaring at the two nations inside. 'His' the Frenchman said. And Canada agreed! Canada belonged to him, not some French bastard—and of course, words weren't enough. No, of course they weren't. Why else would they be doing such things together? The man withdrew from the window. He would make his move soon. Very soon.

* * *

**Author's Note: Yeah, it's short. Sorry bout that :/ But this was the best place to end the chapter. I'll start working on the next one, and hopefully it will be a lot longer.**


	4. Chapter Four

**Author's Note: You guys are amazing. I didn't expect so many reviews, alerts, and favs! *rolling on the floor in happiness* I feel like I just won the lottery or something! No. Really. I do BI**

**Watergoddesskasey: Thank you so much! I'm really glad you're enjoying it! ^^**

**Maige: I'm sorry to say that's not right, love~ But, you are on the right track. Other than his anonymous entries, the creeper has not been mentioned yet. If things go as I want them too, you won't figure out who it is for quite a ways ^/^**

**AllyHWarner: xD Nope, sorry girl~ It isn't him either xDDD Although I will admit, when I started the story, I spent a week trying to decide who the creeper would be before I actually wrote /anything/ down. He was one of the first I thought of, but I ended up ruling him out pretty fast….for reasons I cannot reveal yet.**

**You know the drift~ I own only the plot.**

_**(break)**_

"What?" Francis growled, answering the phone. Canada hid a smile, climbing off of his lap—whoever was calling was about to get an earful for interrupting them. Francis frowned slightly, his expression went from anger to shock. "How is that possible? I just checked everything this morning!" Francis paused, listening and grimacing. "Alright, I'm on my way right now." He hung up and stood. "Matthieu, mon ange, it appears somebody has hacked the boss's system. I've got to get up there and set everything straight again."

"Oh, okay…" Matthew smiled at him, showing that it was okay.

"I'll hurry back, I promise~" he murmured, pulling the Canadian into his arms. "When I get back, though…" He purred into his ear. "I want you to be waiting for me in bed~" Matthew blushed, knowing quite well _how_ he was to be waiting.

"O-okay," he mumbled, averting his gaze. Francis chuckled, giving him a gentle kiss before leaving. The front door shut, and Matthew stared at the wall in shock. This was the first time he had been left by himself the entire time he was here. He wasn't sure he liked it. Kuma wasn't much company, considering he spent his time in the living room watching television. He sighed, deciding he would take a hot bath before he did anything else. He just wanted to soak and relax. He walked into the master bath, running the water hot enough that it steamed. He undressed quickly, lowering himself into the tub with a groan. The heat was already loosening his stiff muscles. He laid his head back, sighing and closing his eyes.

_Creak._

Matthew jerked his head up at the noise, looking at the clock. It had only been fifteen minutes since Francis left, there was no way he was back. He listened carefully, but when he heard nothing else, he brushed it off as the house settling. Older homes such as this one were just very creaky places. He leaned back again, only to be startled by the sound of glass shattering from another room. He quickly got out, wrapping a towel around himself and going into the bedroom, pulling clothes on quickly and going to investigate. He found Kuma in the study, lying in the floor in a puddle of blood, unconscious.

"K-Kuma?" He knelt by the bear cub, examining the wound carefully. It wasn't deep, but it was a head wound, which explained all the blood. But….the glass from the window was _inside_ the study, which meant whatever broke it, came from outside. Just as he realized this, he heard movement behind him. He stood, turning to defend himself, when a rag was held over his mouth. He gasped, struggling, the fumes pulling him into the blackness.

_**(break)**_

"Matthieu~" Francis came through the front door and knew something was off as soon as he didn't receive a reply. He went upstairs, thinking perhaps the lad had fallen asleep. Seeing the blankets undisturbed, he was immediately worried. Then he noticed the bathroom light was on, and the carpet near the door was damp. His eyes widened slightly, and he opened the door to see the floor completely flooded, the bathtub still running. He quickly went and shut off the water. He went to the study, the last place he had seen his lover, the color draining from his face at the sight. The bear….Kuma, was laying in the floor, a dried puddle of blood around him, the window was shattered, and there was no sign of his lover anywhere.

_**(break)**_

**Author's Note: A bit longer than the last chapter, but still pretty short / Sorry bout that. Hope you enjoyed! Please, tell me what you think! I like to hear that people enjoyed it. I wrote this in about three hours, but I was also babysitting, so I have an excuse for it taking so long. But I didn't start it until /after/ I checked my email and saw how many people had reviewed, favorited, and alerted. I was so psyched it isn't even funny.**


	5. Chapter Five

Everything hurt. He couldn't move, could just barely breathe. Fear ran like ice through his veins.

_Where am I?_ he thought, struggling against the darkness. Slowly, the blackness began to recede, and he realized his eyes were open, just covered. He still couldn't move, but realized this was due to restraints, not paralysis. He whimpered softly, biting his lip to muffle the noise. He was laying on a metal table, naked and bound in such a way that even his head couldn't move. A door opened and closed to his left, and he began trembling. The blindfold was removed, the bright lights blinding him momentarily.

"You're finally awake!" A man stood before him, but that was all he could tell. His accent was rather peculiar, one he couldn't quite place. "Now we can begin the experiments."

* * *

Francis sat in his office, going over his security cameras film watching for any evidence as to who had taken his angel. The only evidence to his identity was that he had very dusty shoes. He grabbed his phone, dialling the head of security. He told him to check everything that had been hacked the previous night, to look for anthing abnormal that might link the break in and it.

"I will find you, Matthieu," he whispered. "I promise."

* * *

_**Three months later**_

Matthew lay there, curled up in a ball, preserving what little body heat he had left. He was broken, he was scarred, he was /alone/.

"Francis," he whispered as the blackness closed in on him. "I love you."

Francis ran through the hospital halls, hurrying to his angel. "Matthieu!" He flung open the door, freezing dead in his tracks at what he saw. "Oh, my sweet angel," he whispered. Matthew sat propped up by a mountain of pillows, staring at him with terror in his eyes...his inhuman eyes. The pupils were vertical slits. That alone is not what startled him so. On top of his head, peeking out from the golden waves, was a pair of feline ears-the same golden shade as his hair. Along with the ears was a long, slender tail, which hung off the edge of the bed, flicking back and forth slowly. He stared in shock at the sight before him. How was this possible? People didn't have cat parts! It just didn't make sense! He blinked slowly, coming back to the present. The…_additions_ didn't matter. What did was Matthew.

"Matthieu," he murmured, entering the room fully, closing the door behind him. He started towards him slowly, not wanting him to be afraid.

"Stay back" he whispered, and Francis felt tears prick his eyes—even his voice was different, no longer holding that musical quality from before, instead it consisted of a throaty rasp, grinding against his eardrums harshly. "Please stay back." Despite his pleas, Francis continued forward slowly, coming to stand next to him.

"Mon doux ange (My sweet angel)," he sat on the edge of the bed, careful of the tail, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from his eyes. "How I've missed you so." Matthew's eyes filled with tears, and he whimpered softly. Without a moment's hesitation Francis wrapped his arms around the boy, cradling him against his chest. Matthew buried his face in his neck, letting the tears fall and clinging to him for dear life as he sobbed. "I've got you, mon cher, I've got you." Francis murmured, stroking his hair gently

"Don't ever leave me," he sobbed. "Please! Don't let me be alone again!"

"I'll never let go," he murmured softly, burying his face in the soft, golden waves of his hair. "I'll never leave you again, I promise."

* * *

Matthew checked the mirror one last time, making sure his ears were hidden by the hat. His tail was tucked into his pant leg and wrapped around his ankle. He would be staying with Francis while he recovered—which looked to be an indefinite amount of time. Anytime he was reminded of his time imprisoned he went into hysterics on such a level that if Francis wasn't around, the doctors were forced to use drugs to calm him. He was very unstable, needing constant supervision. Because of this, Francis called Antonio to pick them up, knowing that just leaving Matthew to grab his car was a bad idea.


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N: I'm baaaack! XD Sorry about the long absence. I have no excuse other than I was just plain lazy. I'm sorry, but I can't promise it won't happen again. I _can_ promise that it's less likely on this story, because I think after this chapter I will only need...two, maybe three more chapters. And I have one of those already written. ;)**

* * *

Francis kept an arm wrapped around Matthew's waist as he guided him through the halls of the hospital. The Canadian gripped the elder's arm desperately, as if his very life depended on it. Francis smiled warmly at the boy, calming him with just a glance. Together, the two of them stepped through the doors and into the sunshine for the first time in an age. Matthew stared at his surroundings, his wide eyes displaying a vast array of emotions—fear, loss, pain, sorrow—but the most apparent ones being those of joy and happiness. It had been such a long time since he had felt the sunshine on his skin that he had forgotten how glorious it felt. Slowly, he closed his eyes, stepping away from the Frenchman and turning in a circle, simply soaking in the sunshine. He felt as if nothing could go wrong, like he had never been hurt.

Snapping back to reality, he went back to his lover's arms, following him towards a red sports car and climbing into the back. Once the two blondes were seated, Antonio turned back to smile at Matthew. "Hola, amigo," he said. "I've heard you had quite a time with recovery! I just wanted you to know if there's anything you need—anything at all, just give me a ring, okay?" Matthew hesitated slightly, then gave a small nod, turning his gazer to the window. The two European nations exchanged glances before the Spaniard turned back to the wheel and started the car.

* * *

"You let him get away?!" the man growled, glaring at his accomplice. "You let my Canada escape?!"

"With all due respect," the Asian said in his soft voice, his eyes dark with anger. "If I had remained in the vicinity, we _both_ would have been caught."

"I don't care!" he roared, overturning the lab table and sending various instruments skidding across the floor. "He. Is. MINE!"

"Then go get him yourself. My part of the deal is done."

"Just get out, you get nothing until I have my prize."

The Asian man removed his lab coat and hung it in its place before stepping through the doorway without another word. He wanted Canada? Good luck! Now that the boy had been found, everybody would be on red-alert. His former associate would be lucky to get _near_ the Canadian now.


	7. Chapter Seven

Matthew sat curled up in a ball on the sofa in France's office, watching the elder nation as he worked. He felt horrible, knowing how stressed his lover must be, having to work, take care of the Canadian, and then he had volunteered to take on Matthew's work as well until he himself were well enough to do it himself. He sighed quietly, turning to stare out the window, wanting nothing more than to go outside. He glanced over at Francis, then squared his shoulders determinedly—he refused to be a burden anymore. Slowly, he stood from the sofa, walking with jerking steps to the door. "I'll be outside if you need me," he said as he passed the Frenchman.

"Hold on one moment, mon cher (my dear)," Francis said, starting to pack up the paperwork. "I will come with you."

"No," his tail twitched from side to side, betraying his nervousness. "Keep working, I'll only be a few minutes."

"If you're certain," he said slowly, looking rather surprised.

"Positive," he nodded, leaving the room before he could change his mind again. His breath began to quicken as he moved farther and farther from the office door, making him struggle to keep going. "_No!_" he whispered, clenching his hands into fists. "I refuse to be a prisoner, not even to myself." He couldn't keep hiding behind Francis, he had to face his fears if he were to ever be free again. He forced himself to grip the doorknob, turning and pulling it towards him. A wave of fresh spring air hit him as he stepped through the doorway. His eyes fluttered shut and a smile spread across his lips as he stood perfectly still. Nothing would keep him down, nothing would keep him prisoner again.

Francis watched with a small smile from the office window. His sweet Matthew was finally back, after such a long time, he was finally home. He sighed, turning back to his computer screen, the tension between his shoulders lessening somewhat.

Shortly after Matthew had come back in, there was a knock at the front door, startling the two males. Francis smiled warmly at the Canadian, who had turned worry-filled eyes to him. "I'm sure its nothing, mon cher," he murmured, standing. "I'll be right back." He left the study, making his way to the entry hall. He wasn't half-way there before Matthew popped up beside him, latching onto his arm. He chuckled, kissing the Canadian's forehead gently. Reaching the front door, he pulled it open after unfastening the locks, slightly surprised to see a certain Japanese man standing on his doorstep. "Bonjour, Kiku," he smiled, despite his surprise. "What brings you here?"

"Konichiwa, Bonnefoy-san, Williams-san," he bowed stiffly to the two of them. Matthew stared intently at the fellow nation, his thoughts racing wildly. He knew that voice, he knew those dark, emotionless eyes that regarded him so coldly. He tightened his grip on Francis's arm, trembling slightly. Those same eyes that gazed upon him now had watched him as he lay strapped to a table, writhing from pain that voice had mocked him during his every waking moment. The Frenchman turned to him with a concerned gaze, but Matthew simply shook his head. "I'm afraid this isn't a casual visit," he continued. The Canadian shifterd uncomfortably, his feline ears laid flat back against his head.

Francis nodded knowingly. "I suspected as much," he said, stepping aside and allowing him entry. The dark-eyed nation came in, and Francis shut the door behind him, leading him to the study. "Have a seat."

There was a long pause after the three had taken their seats, Matthew's nervous twitching being the only sound or movement besides their breathing. Finally, the Japanese male looked up at them, his expression betraying nothing. "I must ask that you swear to hear everything I have to say before you take action of any sort."

"You have my word," Francis said, waving it off as he leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, making a tent with his fingertips.

He nodded, taking a deep breath. "I know who was responsible for the kidnapping," he said. "And I must admit, I was an accomplice." France's eyes narrowed dangerously at this information, but he remained silent, having given his word. "We made a deal, he would become my strongest ally, and in return, I was to get him Canada, and add a few…traits. When he was taken, my partner went into a rage and said I had to get him back or he would not fulfill his end of the bargain." Matthew's eyes were wide and he began to tremble again. "Instead, I came to warn you. It was a poor decision on my part, and I apologize, Canada-san, for everything."

The boy slowly looked up at him, his eyes strangely calm now. "I can't forgive you, not now," he said, meeting his tormentor's gaze. "Maybe one day, but not today."

He nodded gravely. "I didn't expect you too," he said. "But I will not say who my partner was. He was a close friend of mine, and I must honor that."

"Then why are you here?" Francis growled.

"What I _will_ tell you is what his plans are."


	8. Chapter Eight

**A/N: Wow, sorry about the wait guys. Actually, that's kinda a lie ^^; I actually finished writing the entire story like a week ago BI I was just too lazy to type it up and upload it. Here's chapter eight, and there are two more after this. Since I have nothing better to do, I'll probably type nine and ten up now, but no promises on uploading them tonight. Like I said, I'm lazy. Get over it :P Love y'all~**

* * *

Matthew gripped Francis's arm tightly, staring up at him with fear in his eyes. "Please don't make me do this," he whispered.

"Mon cher," Francis wrapped his arms around the trembling boy, holding him close. "You won't be alone, you know that. As soon as he breaks in, the police will have him. I will be just down the road—he won't have a chance to even lay eyes on you, I promise." The Canadian clung to his shirt, sobbing quietly. Despite knowing he was safe, he couldn't shake the terror that had taken hold of him. What if something went wrong? What if he was taken again? "I won't let anything happen to you, Matthew," Francis murmured, staring into his lover's eyes and stroking his cheek gently. The Canadian nodded slowly, hiding his face in his chest and refusing to budge, causing the Frenchman to chuckle softly. "Mon cher, I've got to go…" The boy's grip tightened and he sighed, stroking his hair gently before pulling back. "You're going to be just fine, mon petit ange," he said quietly, smiling at him reassuringly.

He sniffled, stepping away from the Frenchman reluctantly. "Je t'aime, Francis," he whispered.

"Je t'aime aussi," he kissed his forehead gently, slipping his jacket on and heading out the door. Matthew stood there for the longest time, not even bothering to hide the tears rolling down his face—what was the point? Nobody could see them anyways. He knew that Francis would be back, but he couldn't stop the feeling of abandonment coursing through his veins. This was why he didn't fight to be seen, this pain he felt. The few times he had visitors, he would paste on a smile and make them welcome, but the moment they left he would return to this state.

First, he had been left to freeze by the nomadic peoples of his land; they had originally taken him in, but when they saw he did not age, they spoke of devils and left him. That's when Kumajirou found him, blue from the cold as he huddled to stay warm. The bear cub had led him to a cave, sheltering him from the elements. During the night, the cub had curled up against him, keeping him warm, while during the day he would hunt to keep him fed. One day, when the animal guardian had stayed in, a man arrived. His pale skin and blonde hair similar to the boys, which surprised him, seeing as he had never seen anyone with his complexion before; the stranger smiled at him, kneeling to be closer to his level. "Bonjour, little one," he said softly, so as not to frighten him. "Are you the one the natives spoke of?" The boy hesitated slightly before nodding. The man must be trustworthy—at least enough to make Kumajirou not bother moving from where he was curled up, small black eyes watching them curiously. "You look like no demon too me," he said, smiling again. "In fact, you look more like a cold and hungry little boy," he held out a hand towards him, the warm smile still in place. "Would you like to come home with me? I'll keep you warm and well fed, I'll teach you to read and write—I'll even call you son, if it would please you." The little boy had stared at him with wide violet eyes as he thought the offer through. He wanted to run into this blue-eyed man's arms and go everywhere with him, but he turned his head to the bear cub. He couldn't leave him, no matter how much he longed to go. His eyes turned back to the stranger, filled with a painful sadness; he stood and walked to the bear, wrapping his small arms around its middle and hugging it tightly, shaking his head. "I never said your friend couldn't come," the man's eyes twinkled, reminding the boy of the ocean's waves. "Did I?"

Matthew had absolutely adored his papa, had loved every minute he was with him, but after only a century a man with green eyes and bushy blonde eyebrows had come and taken him away. He had kicked and screamed, wanting his papa to save him, but the Frenchman had just given him a sad look and turned his back on him. Eventually, the Canadian had learned to love this new man, but ne never forgot his papa, and would often cry himself to sleep at night. Then the boy he had considered his brother began lashing out at him, angry over little things, then came the day that he too left. Matthew had remained loyal though and stayed with the British nation, even when Alfred came back to try and take him away—that had ended quickly with somebody's house burning nearly to the ground, courtesy of one angry Canadian. Matthew only left Arthur when the nation himself suggested as such, and only then because he knew he wasn't wanted anymore.

Now, centuries later, he was being abandoned again, and by the man who had stolen his heart for the second time. He scrubbed the tears from his face and turned away from the door, stiffly making his way to the living room and curling up on the sofa. He stared blankly in front of him, forcing himself not to think about it anymore. He had to trust him more, he couldn't keep on like this. If he kept this up he would destroy himself.

His hair tickled the back of his neck and he reached up to brush it awy, freezing when he hit something that most _definitely_ wasn't his hair. Immediately jumping up and whirling to face the intruder, utterly shocked by who he saw. Standing behind the sofa was the least expected person.

"Hello Matthew," Heracles purred. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Matthew gaped at him. _This_ was the 'mastermind'?! He was the one who had started all of this? It made no sense. "I know what you're thinking," he said, that eerie smile still in place "That the lazy, cat loving nation of Greece couldn't be responsible for this, could he?"

This wasn't Greece anymore, Matthew thought. This was a madman.

* * *

**A/N: ****Congrats to Falsebound Wings and Blueladymare who are the only two people to have figured it out long before this point! The other guesses included Prussia, Australia, and Russia. Now, the first two there, sorry guys who thought they were the Mastermind, but those were way off. Russia, ironically, was originally the bad guy, until I actually started _writing_ the story. But I'm surprised how many people guessed correctly...then again, now that y'all know, I'm betting y'all will be going back to figure out the hints I dropped, eh? Anywho, reviews are welcome, flames too, but I'd at least prefer you flame me in a faintly decent manner, 'kay?**


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